Painting the Roses Orange
by TheLovelyJudy
Summary: Was he really that evil? Yes, yes he was. One-Shot Alex/OC Non-Con, Suicide.


Painting the Roses Orange

_Warning: Non-Con and Suicide, plus Alex's usual...Alexness..._

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><p>"Get away from me, I'm warning you!" The sweet devotchka tried to threaten, her goloss shaking with fear of Uncle Alex. I made my own goloss like a charming gentleman, "Don't be fearful little sister, we won't hurt you" She didn't believe me, what a smart devotchka. Then again, it must be hard to believe the same chelloveck who forced the ol' in out on you before. I remember that night o my brothers, how she clawed at me and creeched as the ninth crashed all around us.<p>

Now I was back for more, this time with my droogs in tow. She backed away with terror in her bambi glazzies, her lips quivering and I was pan-handled then. I did not want to share her with my droogies, she was too horror show for them. I felt the beast roaring inside of me, and I lunged at her like a wild animal. She creeched loud like and beat at me with her tiny fisties, I laughed at her. I lubilubed her lips and she cried out against my mouth.

I grabbed her groodies and squeezed, this caused her pain and she was all creeching. I tore at the fabric covering her plot and plunged into her. I covered her mouth with my hand, muffling her creeching goloss. Pete, Georgie, and Dim were bang bang banging on the door like let me in, but I ignored them o my brothers. For I had decided that this devotchka was mine only, and that was too bad for my droogs. Shall I describe her to you my brothers, she was malenky in age and stature. Fifteen years old and I eighteen. Her hair was like the color of chocbars, and her rot was pink and plump.

I liked very much to bit down on her rot with my zoobies and hear her boo hoo hooing at the pain. The first time I gave her a bit of the ol' in out in out was three months ago in an alley way. That time I simply pinned her to the wall with my own plot. Now I had more time, and she wasn't getting away. I plunged into her like hard over and over while she boo hooed and creeched and scratched at me with pink nails. Inside my rassodock I was imagining Beethoven's Ode to Joy slamming through the walls, just as I was doing to this little devotchka. O my brothers, your humble narrator must tell you how amazing it felt.

If you could only hear her creeching as Uncle Alex plunged deep inside, the red red kroovy dripped like rain from her womanly parts. And there were purple spots on her inner thighs and hips and everywhere. She looked so pretty with her eyes sparkling with tears, and the kroovy between her trembling thighs. My droogs pounded at the door, I pulled out and told her to leave, she didn't move an inch my brothers.

She whimpered and looked at me with like poogly eyes and I told her again to leave, she sat up and tried to put her platties back on. She stood up and couldn't walk very fast, you see it hurt there were I plunged. But soon she was gone. I opened the door for my droogs and they were bezoomny at your friend for not sharing the devotchka, "My appy polly loggys, my fine malchicks" I said in my most gentlemanly goloss. The same one I used on the pretty devotcha the first time.

_"Excuse me little sister, but it's very dark out here. Would you allow me the honor of walking you home?"_

_"Oh, thank you very much. I'm Lucy by the way. You're so polite, you don't find that a lot these days"_

My droogs forgave me and we went off into the night for some good ol ultra violence. We found a bezoomny babootchka muttering to herself in an alley way and vred her until her kroovy followed from her face and she lay on the pavement with her glazzies all opened and kroovy dripping from her rot. It was two o'clock in the morning, and so we retired for the night. I went home and said nothing to my pee and em for they were fast asleep. I decided it was not the time to let Beethoven slam through the walls. I went to sleep.

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><p><em><strong>L U C Y ' S P O V<strong>_

I was so stupid, trusting a complete stranger like that...but he was so handsome...so charming and sweet...I didn't know he was really a monster. I thought people that evil looked evil, I thought someone like that would be ugly and mean. And he was mean, but not at first. At first he was so nice, and then...and then he hurt me. Really badly, I still remember begging him to stop, screaming at him to stop, and even threatning him. I said I'd tell the police, but we both knew I was too ashamed to say anything, and besides...the police were nothing but brutes themselves.

And how could I ever utter those horrible words, when I couldn't even admit to myself? I had dreams of falling in love, I had dreams of wearing a beautiful white lace dress, I'd never given much thought to the wedding night to be honest. I guess my only expectations was that it would be the man I loved and whom loved me, and that he would be gentle...was that too much to ask for?

In the weeks after the...attack...I withdrew from everyone and everything. Every night I tossed and turned while visions of his body against mine tore at my mind with razor sharp claws. There were times when I could even feel it, I felt the brick wall scraping against my bare back as we moved against the wall. I curled underneath my blankets and allowed myself to sob into the soft fur of my stuffed cat Oliver.

I prayed to God that I would forget, or at least get over it. I tried telling myself that, even as he was doing this horrible thing to me. "It's okay Lucy, it's just your body. It isn't important...it isn't important" thank God he was gone. I could get through this. I could. I just had to get over it, people lose their virginity all the time. Right?

I don't even know his name.

I became obsessed with that, I wanted to talk to him. And yet the idea of being within forty yards of him made me tremble with fear. I wanted to ask him why, just why. I wanted to ask if he really understood how much it hurt...not just physically (and dear lord it did) but emotionally. I wanted to ask him if he thought that it simply didn't matter, that I would go home and wake up fine the next day.

However, as much I wanted to ask these questions I did not want to hear his answers. It made no sense I know, but that's honestly how I felt. Six weeks had passed and my friend Tina invited me to hang with her at the Korova Milk Bar. I had never even heard of it, the name made me laugh a little. ("Finally, I've missed that smile" Tina had said) I joked around a little and asked her if the bartenders were cows.

We went, I didn't order anything. I hated the decor, it was disgusting and degrading. But Tina was so excited about me coming that I stayed. As we went to the back, I looked to my right and in the span of ten seconds my whole world-the one that I had spent gluing back together-fell apart before my eyes. He was there, smirking at me.

I couldn't move, he stood up. My mind was screaming at my body to run, but my body was paralyzed. He was taller than me, and leaned down slightly to whisper in my ear. "Hello there little sister" I whimpered somewhere in my throat. Somehow I managed to find my legs, I pulled away and ran out the door. I ran down the street, my house was just three blocks away. I could make it! I could make it!

Suddenly I felt arms around me, no! no! please dear God! don't let him hurt me again! I kicked and screamed but he simply put his hand over my mouth and dragged me into an abandoned warehouse. "Please don't!" I sobbed, he held onto me as he slammed the sheet metal door shut. His friends pounded at it angrily, he pinned me to the cement floor and tore my dress with his hands. I turned my head away and stared at the wall, whimpering as he shoved his evil into me. Tears dripped from my eyes and I couldn't stop the short screams of pain as he moved roughly.

I could feel myself dying for the second time. Finally he was finished, he told me to get out of there. I couldn't walk without it hurting there between my legs, and I could feel him dripping down with my own blood. I managed to get out through a back window. I walked home while cars zoomed by on the road. I felt like a ghost, I felt as if I wasn't even there. I was floating outside my body, every step was robotic. Something simply stored away in my memory, right foot left foot and again. I felt sick, exhausted, and hurt. So hurt, inside and out. I wanted then to curl up under one of those trees and die. Just let the dirt shower over me, bury the pain.

I walked home, mother and father were out to one of their parties. I walked into the kitchen and the knife whispered "do it Lucy, end the hurt" as I pulled it from the wooden block. I hesitated and then sliced at my wrist, the skin split and blood exploded. This was a new kind of pain, this pain distracted from everything else. I just wanted to make it all go away, So I cut, and cut, and cut, and cut. I sliced this way and that way, Until my arm was stained with blood and my vision started going fuzzy. I didn't want my parents to find me like that, so I crawled up the stairs and made it to my bedroom door before everything went black.

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><p>The morning came with the zvook of birds in the big ol blue, just outside my window. My glazzies were stuck together with sleep glue and my rot was dry. It was eight oh oh clock, according to the watch round my wrist. I'd taken it from some prof like veck two notchys ago. Downstairs, my papapa and mum were eating breakfast. I got up and got into my school platties. I went downstairs and smiled all wide with my white zoobies shining. "Hello Hello Hello there, how art thou today?" My em was putting some eggiwegs onto a plate for me. I took it from her and kissed her cheek, "Thank You mum" At that she gave a small smile. "You better eat fast son or you'll be late"<p>

"That's terrible" Papapa said from behind his newspaper. He viddied the black and white paper with a bezoomny expression on his face. Like he couldn't believe all the horrors of this world. "A sixteen year old girl killed herself last night, her parents found her lying in front of her bedroom door with her arms covered in cuts. Name was Lucy Walker"

I thought that over in my rassodock, I remembered the notchy before and the malenky devotchka whom I'd plunged into. The first time I viddied her, I used my gentlemen's goloss. She had said, and this I remember very well o my brothers...

_"Oh, thank you very much. I'm Lucy by the way. You're so polite, you don't find that a lot these days"_

So little Lucy the sladky ptitsa had cut her own life line, I felt a little odd at that. Not sad or sorry my friends, thinking about her writhing underneath my plot made me flash my zoobies. But it was still odd you viddy? I figured she was much stronger than that, oh well. On with another day. I said goodbye to my pee and em and left for the ol skolliwol. But even there everyone, the profs and malchicks and devotchkas kept talking about the suicide of poor Lucy Walker. "Did you hear she was raped?..." "She was acting so strange, why didn't anybody notice before it was too late?..." "What kind of a monster would hurt someone like that?..." "Poor Lucy..." "Poor Mr. and Mrs. Walker..."

She was dead. But I didn't take her life. I made her go boo hoo hoo and that was it, I did not kill her. So there was no need to tolchock myself as I was. It was suicide not murder, I was fine. There would be no Staja again for me. Oh my droogies, let me explain. I had killed a babootchka at the age of fifteen and had gone to the rotten Staja as a result. They experminted on your humble narrator, and tried to make him all good like an angel or something. They made him sick at the sight of ultra violence and the ol in out in out. But somehow, I was cured and those sights didn't make me sick anymore. They made me all happy like inside my rassodock and heart. Lucy had been the fifth devotchka I had ripped. The others I do not know what's happened to them, nor do I very much care.

That devotchka was dead, they had found her plot crumbled up on the floor. I imagined her looking like maybe a broken doll, with her arms covered in her own kroovy. What had she been thinking about I wondered? Had she been imagining me, did she feel all spoogly inside? I hadn't killed her, I had not taken her life. I had taken something yes, and enjoyed it. But not her life, she would still be alive if she hadn't taken her life. Had everyone, the devotchkas I had ripped, the vecks I'd tolchoked all felt the desire to end it all? Was I that evil?

I grinned all wide, I felt like murder inside. Yes.

Yes I was.

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><p><strong>This was a one shot, I hope you enjoyed it :-)<strong>

**Please Review, I'd appreciate it very much.**


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